


incipere (this is not the end)

by ohmaggies (orphan_account)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Or don't, and i needed something fluffy and funny to make me feel better, and some cute aaric moments, basically daryl & eric being friends, because 'JSS' gave me feels, i wrote this because i'm trash, i'm not your mum, so enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ohmaggies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'"You’ve spent so long crouched in the hood of that car, I think your hair is getting darker each minute. If it gets any worse, Aaron’s going to have to hold down you so I can hose you in the backyard,” the ginger offers, a lilt of humour echoing beneath his words. “Like a dog.”'</p>
<p>or eric and daryl are attached at the hip & aaron and eric celebrate their anniversary</p>
            </blockquote>





	incipere (this is not the end)

It was dark outside, a cigarette resting in Daryl’s mouth as he sat on their porch, rubbing his red rag against something hard and steel that rested in his hands, billowed nicotine smoke pressed from between his teeth; throat raw and eyes restless, searching through the ceaseless dark of the morning for some sort of life. Across the street, Mrs. Neudermyer sat in her window, a mug of something warm cuddled between her hands as she watched the sun peek over the horizon, the night giving way to the blinding light of morning. Her husband had left a few hours before and she had kissed him politely on the cheek as farewell before disappearing into the kitchen to make a drink.

Daryl had sat there, waiting and watching, trying to pass the time quickly before succumbing to the fatigue that drooped his eyelids, the yawns that heaved at his chest. As soon as the sun was high enough to peer into the window above, Eric would shuffle about upstairs, careful enough to not wake Aaron, and unlock the door to let the dirty redneck inside, muttering something about keeping his dirty paws off the carpet.

The auburn-haired man would disappear shortly afterwards, blanket shifted around his shoulders, to make them coffee— “Black _and_ no sugars? I should crucify you”— and sit on the steps to the garage, yawning endlessly into his palm as he watched Daryl mess around with the vehicles. It took Aaron a while to get out of bed, and by the time he had, Eric was tired and far too affectionate, content with sitting side-by-side and nuzzling his boyfriend; the same boyfriend who had just woken up and was more interested in coffee and cuddles than watching the stray in their garage mess about with tools.

“Ya goin’ to sit there and watch me all morning?” the redneck grumbles, leaning over the boot of the car, hands coating in oil and rag tucked into his back pocket. It takes him a while to meet the ginger’s eyes from beneath his own dark fringe but eventually he catches his gaze and frowns. “Don’t’cha have anything better to do?”

“Aaron’s asleep,” he says, like that’s a suitable explanation for his sudden interest. But—

It’s been _days_ , almost just over a week, since Eric started waking up at the crack of dawn just to observe Daryl and drink bottomless cups of caffeine. It’s too much trouble for someone in his condition; crutches tucked under his armpits as he hobbles out of bed in the morning and down the stairs to greet the redneck.

His ankle is still trying to heal and Aaron just about keeps him on house arrest while he’s out recruiting with Daryl but it doesn’t stop the redhead from rebelling every chance he gets—whether it’s waiting at the gate for their return or wandering around the street while his friends are gone. The neighbours don’t take too kindly to him, and his boyfriend, because of their sexual orientation and if given the chance, they’ll willingly give him a piece of them mind.

“So?” Daryl retorts, not missing the brief look of surprise that catches across Eric’s face. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, too?”

“I like getting up early,” the younger man replies, shoulders heaving with an almost non-existent shrug, his mug of weak caffeine still wafting with steam. The bags under his eyes are heavier than usual, and his eyelids droop with each word; the caffeine doesn’t seem to be doing much. “...And, well, unfortunately for me, I happened to fall in love with someone who _can’t_ stand the morning. Should’ve seen him back at our old house, the poor man could barely drag himself out at bed unless it was past midday. There’s only one way to get him up at this hour, if you know what I mean.”

“No wonder he keeps ya inside,” Daryl murmurs, a light chuckle caught in his throat. His motorbike broke shortly after they got trapped by the Wolves and since Rick told them not to risk recruiting anymore, he figures he has enough time to fix it up before the next time he has to leave. “Half of ‘em out there would die if they heard what you said.”

Eric laughs a little too loudly, injured ankle spread out in-front of him, as he settles his cup beside him.

He insists constantly that he is capable of being on his own but Daryl knows he hates the silence; the emptiness that fills him when he’s by himself for days on end, couped up inside because the Alexandrians wouldn’t mind exchanging a few unkind words with him. Aaron is protective, or maybe he cares just a little too much, but Daryl suspects Eric had a few things to say about being left behind while his boyfriend rode off into the sunset with a near stranger. Part of him might feel guilty about it if Eric didn’t look so damn pleased all the time.

“You’ve spent so long crouched in the hood of that car, I think your hair is getting darker each minute. If it gets any worse, Aaron’s going to have to hold down you so I can hose you in the backyard,” the ginger offers, a lilt of humour echoing beneath his words. “ _Like a dog.”_

The redneck pauses his work for a second to glare at his companion, clenching his wrench tighter in his grasp. It occurs to him to maybe be upset, or get mad, at the younger man for comparing him to an animal but it passes. “You got any of that coffee left?”

A yawn passes quickly by Eric’s lips before he nods. “Black, no sugars?” he asks, but he already knows the answer. Standing shakily, he quickly makes the sign of the cross before shaking his head, auburn hair catching in the sun peering through the garage window. “I’ll be back in a minute, don’t wait for me!”

To Daryl, it doesn’t make a lick of sense; there’s no reason for the younger man to be up at all, especially when they mostly sit in silence for the majority of their few hours together, sipping their coffees and trying to not wake the sleeping recruiter upstairs. Actually, they don’t really talk all that much anyway. Sometimes they have dinner, with Aaron, of course, but they’re never really alone to talk all that much. Daryl considers him a friend, obviously, but waking up at half past four in the morning for six days in a row just to let him in?

He doesn’t understand it.

“Here we go,” chirps a familiar voice, the flamboyant, and tired, redhead appearing in the doorway with a brightly coloured mug in his hand, half-struggling to stay upright as he passes it to Daryl’s calloused hands. “Your sludge of a coffee.”

“You know, one of these days, ya going to fall over,” the redneck retorts, accepting the drink and sipping at it almost as soon as it left Eric’s grasp. It was warm and soothing, something to feed the starving monster in his belly. “—and it’s going to be worse than just injuring your ankle.”

“Why, Daryl, are you threatening me?”

_Wouldn’t dream of it._

They sit there in silence for a few minutes, the only noise that of the wrench hitting about inside of the car and Daryl slurping at his drink, which earns its fair share of disgusted groans from Eric.

“Daryl Dixon,” he finally scolds.

“Sorry,” the other man replies, dark fringe covering his face. Then, with a small mischievious smile, added, “Is Aaron the only one allowed to do that?”

At first, the ginger looks like he’s at a loss for words before he raises a hand to his chest in mock horror, an exasperated shock forced from between his lips as he stares at Daryl, eyebrows narrowed accusingly. “How dare you, I’ll have you know that he never slurps. My boyfriend is a perfect—and proper—gentlemen.”

It’s the first time for weeks that Daryl feels himself actually laugh, the noise coaxed from his throat at Eric’s display, and even Eric himself looks dumbfounded. The first time he had even seen the redneck he was sitting by a barn with a cigarette burning into his flesh; Aaron had only sighed but Eric knew he was sad— they had lost something, those people, and the gay couple could do nothing but sit in silence.

Was there really anything to say?

“So, you can laugh?” the younger of the two asks, moving away just in time to avoid an oily rag hitting him. Even though he regards the material that hits the wall with the slightest tinge of disgust, he’s still smiling. “It’s nice.”

Daryl snorts. He knows Eric well enough to know that when this is all over and they’ve had more sleep, and maybe breakfast, Aaron’s boyfriend will never let him live it down. He’s not a neat freak, he has no reason to be, not when they never have company, but he likes the house to be clean.

There’s been worse than just the oil mark now staining the white of the walls; one time, Daryl tracked dirt all through the house from the front door to the garage and Eric had taken one look and almost had a heart attack— “Aaron, I’m going to kill him. He’s dead.”

It was an empty threat.

Sure, Eric was probably capable of murder but he wouldn’t kill one of his friends, especially one that he woke up at five every morning to greet.

“Anyone ever told ya you talk too much?”

“Oh, plenty,” the ex-recruit replies, waving his hand about as if to make his point. “But I’ve learned not to listen to the haters, simply not worth my time or the breath it takes talking to them. Between you and me, I would much rather wait for karma to come around.”

* * *

 

“Do you think he’s onto us?” Aaron asks, drying a blue-rimmed plate as Eric passes it along.

“Not in the slightest,” his boyfriend smirks, looking along at him. “He’s barely even figured out that we already fixed the motorbike.” It wasn’t exactly as easy as fixing up a tractor but Eric had managed just fine; add fixing motorbikes to his endless list of ‘perks of growing up on a farm’.

Before he can talk further, Aaron leans forward to press a gentle peck to his lips, smirking into the kiss. “Sooner or later, I’m going to find it hard to stop doing that, you know.”

“Who said you had to stop?”

Ever since they invited Daryl into their home, things had been different; in good ways and bad ways. They were never alone, which never really bothered them too much, but Eric always seemed to be tired. No amount of caffeine and early nights could make up for the mornings when he rose just to let their new friend in. Aaron had offered to do it himself a few times but the redhead wouldn’t stand for it.

Even with his crutches and a sprained ankle, he still somehow manages to be more active than Aaron is— cooking at all hours of the morning and night, and cleaning up whatever mess his partner had left behind, and Daryl, too.

He’s seen enough oily rags and plaid shirts to last him an entire lifetime and if he never sees any more ever again, he would be okay with that.

Still, his thoughts can’t help but drift to before; when the most important person in his life had almost died. It had been so close. Eric had barely let him go for hours after he got back, clinging onto him while they sat in silence. There was a small argument but it hadn’t mattered much— as long as his boyfriend was alright, there was no need to worry. But still, when they had gotten back much earlier than they had originally planned, empty-handed, his mind had already assumed the worst.

Maybe one of them was bit and had come back to spend their last moments with their family, or maybe it hadn’t been a successful trip. So many possibilities and none of them were what he wanted.

“Hey,” Aaron whispers, breaking the silence. “I love you.”

Though they only said it the night before, Eric still feels warmth flood inside him, wet hands pulled from the sink to grasp at the brunette, one hand curling around his hair and the other resting on his neck, leaving soapy fingerprints. “I love you, too.” They kiss again, slower than last time, and allow themselves a moment to breathe. After everything—after losing Pete and Reg—things have been chaotic, and they haven’t really had a moment to stop and think.

It’s nice to relax, to just kiss the man he loves and forget everything else exists. Sure, life would be a hundred times easier if his ankle wasn’t injured but he doesn’t mind Aaron fussing over him all the time.  Besides, it gave them yet another reason not to go out into the world; to stop searching for people that Eric’s boyfriend constantly insisted were good. Honestly, Eric was too sure if they weren’t the only two ‘good’ people left. Maybe there were a few others—maybe Daryl counted— but he wasn’t sure.

“You know, Eric,” Aaron whispers, voice low enough that he is probably the only one that could hear it. “Our anniversary’s coming up.”

The redhead laughs, moving his hand to push his partner away ever so slightly. “You never remembered before all of this but now, when the dead are literally getting up and walking, you decide to remember— why are you bringing it up now?”

“Because, I thought we could do something for it,” the other man admits. “We can’t exactly do something too extravagant but, I was thinking we could have dinner and play board games... I’m kidding, unless you actually want to do that.” Aaron pauses, eyebrows raised in question. “Do you?”

“I have a better idea.”

* * *

 

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Yeah, now quit it, I’m trying to work here,” Daryl replies, head still buried in the trunk of the car, motorcycle long forgotten. “Go see if Aaron’s out, I wanna take a trip out.”

Eric sighs. “Rick—and Deanna— said no one goes out unless it’s important. I don’t think a wasteful trip out the gates is classified as ‘important’, Daryl. Last time you went out there, you almost didn’t come back, and I almost died when Aaron told me what happened. I’m not letting you risk my man out there again.”

“Whatev’r.”

The younger man can do nothing but stare, mouth poised to argue or scold him. “Besides, it’s our anniversary tomorrow and I would prefer it if he was here for it instead of out there, God knows whether you two would make it back in time for he and I to celebrate.”

Daryl can tell that there was an air of sadness behind Eric’s words; it wasn’t fair that he was left there to worry about them. Alone. Daryl had been used to that his entire life. “Look, if you piss off, I’ll help you.”

“Such a way with words.”

* * *

 

“Well, it was meant to be a surprise,” Eric admits, a flirtatious smile cracked upon his lips, “and I already planned for Daryl to keep you out of the house but I guess I could tell you.”

“If it’s a surprise then maybe you could actually surprise me,” Aaron replies chuckling. “Besides, I could still pretend to be interested when our friend drags me out of the house so you can set up your ‘surprise’.”

They hadn’t really done much the last few years but they always made sure to note that it was happening; to kiss each other a little deeper, to smile a little more. It was the thought that counted, and as long as Eric had Aaron and Aaron had Eric, there was no reason for them to be interested in stupid superficial gifts.

“Speaking of which, Deanna wanted to speak to me so I guess you could do your thing while I’m gone.”

“It’ll be a little hard to do my thing when you’re not here,” the ginger laughs.

Aaron rolls his eyes half-heartedly but smiles nonetheless, hand reaching out to cup his partner’s cheek. “I love you, and I’ll be back later, okay?”

Something about his tone sounds off but Eric lets it go. Talking to Deanna always made his boyfriend frustrated. She barely ever listened and when she did, she never fully understood what Aaron said. The days were the brunette had practically crawled back, defeated, had been plentiful only a few months ago. It was amusing at first to have a brooding Aaron wandering around the house, face constantly pinched in hindrance, but eventually, it got awfully sad.

That was when Eric would pick him up, chuck one of his plaid shirts at him—which was almost definitely hanging over the back of a chair or resting on the floor—and convince him to go for a walk. Things like walking seemed to be a luxury for the redhead now, with his broken ankle, and the Alexandrians seeming to get less and less tolerant for them as time went on.

You would have thought that judgement ended when the world ended but apparently that tended to last.

“Have fun, dear,” he calls back cheerfully, hands still wrinkled from the dish water as he waved goodbye, watching the other man carefully as he exited through the front door.

Daryl is still down the street, trading with Mrs. Neudermeyer for Aaron’s anniversary present. Eric would have been happy enough to do it himself but she happened to be pretty quick with her rude remarks those days (even if they talked frequently, she had a rather large mouth and a tendency to gossip) and he wasn’t entirely prepared to let her ruin the special day.

There was only one thing left to do.

* * *

 

“Food? Check.  Candles? Check. Clean clothes? Check. Daryl out of the house? Check. Aaron? Still missing in action,” Eric says, counting off each thing on his fingers, subconsciously flattening out his clothing with hands, and voice dropping a few octaves as he spoke the last sentence. It has been hours since his partner had disappeared to talk to Deanna and Daryl had stopped by to see if he was there, reporting that, as far as he knew, Aaron was nowhere to be found.

Sure, he was worried and a little panicked, but he needed to focus on making sure their anniversary dinner was just right. If his other half showed up, Eric needed to make sure everything was perfect. And that wouldn’t happen if he was too busy worrying to conduct his plan.

Besides, he had their loyal redneck out searching the streets to bring him home and Constable Grimes had already been notified of the disappearance. With those two on it, the man was sure his boyfriend would turn up unscathed in no time.

Still, the churning feeling in his stomach only made matters worse, and the replay of Aaron’s last words, last actions, still sent uneasy shivers to his spine.

Soon enough, he’s on his lonesome, twirling cold spaghetti onto his fork, trying to restrain the warm tears that blurred across his vision. No one has stopped by to check, to say anything at all, and it had been _hours_ waiting; on his anniversary.

He hasn’t eaten, just given himself the illusion of normalcy.

The knock of the door startles him, making him drop the object in his hands. Napkin removed from his lap, he grabs his crutches, carefully approaching the door with his heart in his throat to greet the person.

As soon as it opened, he embraced, stumbling backwards. Warm hands grasp at him, apologies spilling from the person’s lips, using a voice that sounded much like Aaron’s.

“God, I’m sorry, something happened and—“

The person has obviously seen the display Eric had set up for he and Aaron’s anniversary, and they pulled back.

“Eric,” Aaron whimpers.

All the ginger can do was stare, frowning and battling away his tears. “Are you okay?” he manages to choke out, instantly searching his partner’s body for any sign of injury or ailment. “I thought—when you didn’t show up, I expected the worse. I-I—“

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Aaron’s cupping each side of his face, lips pressed to his. “I’m fine, I just... I wanted to get you something, for our anniversary, and then I ran into Daryl and he told me. I didn’t even realise how long I had been.”

Eric slightly recoils to glare at him. “The food is cold and there’s enough wax melted from those candles that we could make ten more.”

Aaron drops to the floor and all panic vanished when he leant on one knee, digging about in his pocket, the dumbest, and most handsome, smile flashed upon his face. “I was going to do this after your surprise but I can’t stand you being mad at me so—“ He holds up a ring, a part of him fearing rejection but eyes still twinkling with love and adoration as he looks up at his boyfriend. “—Eric Raleigh, will you marry me?”

The redhead almost falls to the floor himself, poised on his crutches, torn between saying yes—which he’s definitely going to do because he’s only waited seven or eight years for Aaron to finally pop the question—or bursting into tears, whatever came first. “This is what you were doing?” he whispers. “You were getting the ring?”

“Actually, I was practicing for a few hours,” the other laughs, tilting their head to stare at the ground for a brief moment. “In front of Carol’s mirror, she was helping me. I had this whole speech and a plan for how I was going to do it and then when I got back and saw what you had done— I didn’t mean to ruin our anniversary, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Eric says, fighting off a smile. Even though he still feels long-forgotten panic settling in his stomach, the same panic he’d had when Rick had threatened to kill him (but that was more than panic, that was red-hot anger, that’s was desperation to keep the only good thing in his life alive), he was beyond happy. “I think this is our best one yet, don’t you?”

Instant relief floods Aaron’s eyes. “Well, you know, this time next year, we _could_ be celebrating our engagement. If you say yes.”

Colour blooms across the redhead’s cheeks, almost brighter than his hair, which had dulled since the end of the world, and he grinned so wide and bright that Aaron could’ve sworn he was going to be blinded for weeks. “Yes.”

His partner doesn’t even bother slipping the ring onto his finger or celebrating the fact they’re going to get married before he leaps up, scooping an unsuspecting Eric into his arms. “You were worried, weren’t you?”

“No one stopped by to say anything and you left at sundown, it’s half-past six now,” he reminds him. “Besides, I think that’s far worse than any random flare, don’t you? My boyfriend, nowhere to be seen, disappeared right on my own doorstep. _Horrifying_.”

“I’m hope I’m not marrying into the crazy,” Aaron mutters but his lips are still twisted into a grin.

Eric pecks him quickly on the lips, moving back, chewing on his own bottom lip. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that,” he declares, accepting the lingering kiss that Aaron sprung on him, crutches still under his arms. “Besides, one of has to be a tad twisted, don’t you think? You know what they say about gingers, they have more fun.”

“Don’t they say that about brunettes?”

“Hanging around your little friend for too long, talking back. What did I ever do to deserve this? I’ve been nothing but good, nothing but kind and gentle to you—and my gosh, do you kiss your mother with that mouth, kind sir?”

A flash of hurt flashes Aaron’s face but his smile widens instantly. “Oh, you know I don’t. But, I _do_ kiss my boyfriend with this mouth.”

“You are so lame.”

* * *

 

The next morning when Eric opens the door for the stray waiting there, smoke billowing from his cigarette and motorcycle jacket hanging from his frame, Daryl wanders in, wiped his feet off on the mat which cheerfully said ‘WELCOME!’—he could almost hear the ginger’s voice saying it— and throws his fag behind him.

And for the first time in six days, Eric doesn’t scold him for his dirty shoes, doesn’t hush him for stomping too loudly about, doesn’t automatically press a cup of hot coffee into his hands, but instead mounts the stairs, making his way up to his room without so much of a goodbye.

There was finally some peace and quiet.

Daryl, though, isn’t stupid enough to not notice the ring glittering on his finger, the strange and unfamiliar look of pure happiness in his eyes. It was nice, strange, but nice, and he shook his head, opening the boot of the car. The gay couple upstairs had fixed is ages ago but he was pleasant enough to humour them. When they finally wanted to talk, or do whatever it is they planned to do, he would be happy enough to listen.

* * *

 

Eric collapsed back in the bed, snuggling himself warmly into Aaron’s embrace, both grinning sleepily, eyes closed against the haze of the early morning sun.

Aaron swore to himself that the only thing brighter than Eric’s engagement ring was the redhead’s smile, and snuggled him closer, lips against his partner’s forehead. They hadn’t spent a morning together in six days, which seemed far too long, and he wasn’t willing to let him go for quite a while.

“I love you.”

“Shut up, you brunette-haired-coffee-loving klutz.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this is kind of good (and I hope to the Heavens I managed to capture Eric correctly, we haven't seen much of him but I love him and I loved writing him) and you enjoy it?


End file.
